


That Fool Puts On A Show

by LayALioness



Series: The 100 Valentines [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends With Benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LayALioness/pseuds/LayALioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy's still a virgin, and Clarke offers to help.</p><p>He's not really sure how it keeps happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Fool Puts On A Show

**Author's Note:**

> for John from Canada, who asked for fwb bellarke + jealousy
> 
> title from Family Force 5

The first time Bellamy hooks up with Clarke Griffin, he’s a senior in high school, and she’s been his best friend for the last four years.

They’re in his bedroom, packing for college. Well, _he’s_ packing—Clarke is lying sprawled out on his bed with one of her summer reading books, hair in a messy fan across his comforter.

“Seriously,” he says, for probably the third time. Maybe more; it was hard to keep track. He isn’t even really paying attention, to be honest. Mostly he’s trying to ignore the fact that her shorts are so worn they’re a little bit see-through. “Miller’s gloating is getting obnoxious. I get it; he’s not a virgin anymore, and I am. I don’t see why it matters.”

“It doesn’t,” Clarke agrees, because she’s a good friend. She turns a page mildly. “Unless it bothers you.”

“Unless what bothers me?” He’s just found the Rubik’s Cube his mom bought him two years ago, and he’s trying to remember the cheat codes he’d looked up online.

“The fact that you’re a virgin,” Clarke says, like it’s obvious, and he chokes a little. When he looks up, she’s staring back at him, looking very unimpressed.

“What, was I not supposed to know? I didn’t realize, what with how many times you’ve literally said _I’m a virgin_ in the last two hours.”

“I guess I didn’t know you were actually listening,” Bellamy coughs, rubbing at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tic, and an obvious one. He keeps meaning to kick the habit.

Clarke goes soft, watching him. “I could help with that,” she says finally, and he frowns.

“What, like a neck massage?”

She squints at him, like she’s trying to decide if he’s really that much of an idiot, which he’s not totally sure is fair. It’s not like she specified.

“No,” she huffs a little, and sits up, oversized shirt falling off her shoulder in the process. It’s baggy and old, with bleach stains and some green paint near the collar. He can see the shiny red of a bra strap, stark against her skin. “If it really bothers you that much, I’ll have sex with you.”

Bellamy doesn’t realize he’s stopped breathing until the Rubik’s cube hits the floor with a clatter, and he startles. Clarke is glaring at him, clearly trying not to blush and failing, which only makes everything worse. He _hates_ when she blushes—she goes all pink everywhere, and it just makes him want to kiss her even more than usual.

“You don’t have to,” he tries, but his voice cracks in the middle, and he takes a step closer without really meaning to.

Clarke shrugs and takes off her shirt. “I don’t mind,” she says, tossing the shirt in some corner. It’ll probably be lost, and she’ll have to wear one of his home. He’ll end up taking her ratty tee to college. It’s big enough to fit him, so he might even wear it around.

“What a ringing endorsement,” he mutters, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

She reaches around and unsnaps her bra, tossing that aside too. “I want to.” She stares up at him through her lashes, and there’s really no holding back after that. He’s only human, and he’s been wanted to jump Clarke Griffin basically since the first time they met.

It goes pretty well, all things considered. He’d heard that the first time usually sucked, that the guy would have basically no stamina, and that it was painful for the girl. But Clarke tugs him in on top of her, and he slides between her legs, grinding down until she’s whining, panting his name is soft little huffs of breath on his chin. _Bell, Bell, Bell_. He kisses her, wet and insistent, just like he’s wanted to.

There’s a condom in his backpack, in one of the zippered side pockets that he doesn’t use. Their health teacher handed them out in class one day, and he’s kept it just in case. Clarke watches as he rolls it on, curious as always, and he slips inside her slowly, not wanting to rush.

He doesn’t last very long, definitely not long enough to get her off, but he just slides out and moves down, pressing sloppy wet kisses anywhere he can, before pulling her thighs over his shoulders and going down on her.

He’s never done this either, doesn’t _really_ know what he’s doing, but he’s watched a lot of porn, so he knows the basic idea. And Clarke helps, pushing his head right up where she wants him, telling him _harder_ and _faster_ and _just like that, Bell, just like that_ , until he has her writhing up against his mouth, muffling her screams with his pillow.

Bellamy leans up, wiping his mouth as Clarke catches her breath, and thinks _this is it._

He’d assumed he’d ask her to prom, and maybe they’d date long distance. His school is only six hours away, and in the same time zone. But this way works too. Sex-to-dating is a little unorthodox, but he’s not about to complain.

But then Clarke sits up and puts her bra back on, snatching up his The Who shirt from a half-packed box. “There,” she says, proud of herself, and reaches for her book where it’s nearly fallen off the bed. “Now you can tell Miller you’re not going to college a virgin. You’ll get _all_ the sorority chicks.”

Bellamy stares a little—he can’t help it—before nodding and turning away, to get dressed. He licks his lips. They still taste like her. “Right,” he agrees, and resumes packing. “So are you going to actually help me pack, or what?”

Clarke makes a face as she tries to find her place in the chapter. “I just had sex with you,” she points out. “I can’t be expected to do _everything_ , you know.”

They do end up going to prom together.

“As friends?” Clarke asks, hopeful, when she mentions it, and Bellamy agrees.

He fingers her in a bathroom stall in the auditorium, and then she slips her hand down his pants to jerk him off, burying his face in her neck when he starts groaning. He gets off in record time, and she seems pretty pleased with herself.

“I would have blown you, but I didn’t want to mess up my dress,” she says cheerily, and Bellamy chokes on absolutely nothing. She seems pleased about that too, rolling up on her toes to smack a kiss to his cheek—something she’s always done, but is a little different now. It might have something to do with the fact that his dick is still hanging out. “Next time,” she grins.

She helps him pack up Miller’s truck—his mom can’t get the time off to drive him to the campus, and O’s at some girls’ wilderness camp for the summer—so he’s driving up with Miller and his dad.

“See you on Thanksgiving,” he offers, only a little awkward, and Clarke just rolls her eyes, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

She’s done it a dozen times since they had sex, but it’s still different. She’s had his dick in that mouth and he can’t just _not_ know what that felt like.

College is a distraction, but not for long. They still text, and skype every Thursday. She’s still his best friend.

He goes to parties and he hooks up, and he gets really good at sneaking out of windows, which isn’t really the sort of thing he ever wanted to be good at. Clarke seems very supportive.

“I told you you’d get all the sorority girls,” she says on the screen, giving an exaggerated wink. He rolls his eyes.

It’s there, on the tip of his tongue— _I don’t_ want _all the sorority girls. I want you._ Just like it always is.

And, just like always, he swallows it down.

He drives down with Miller for Thanksgiving, as promised, and calls Clarke pretty much immediately.

“Hey, are you in town yet?” she asks, sounding a little breathless, like she’d run for the phone.

“Yeah. I just got in.”

“Cool, come over,” she says, and it could be like the million other times he’d hung out at her house, playing chess or doing homework, or making fun of the selection of teen supernatural romance books on her bookshelf. But then she adds, low, “My parents are out.”

She jumps him in the front hallway, wrapping her hands up in his hair first thing, and kissing him like her life depends on it. Bellamy groans, moving to push her against the wall for leverage, so he can cup his hand between her legs. She isn’t wearing pants, and he groans again at the feel of her.

Clarke grins into the kiss, pulling back to plant a wet kiss on his cheek, and smile. “I missed you.”

Bellamy noses at her neck, grinning when she shivers. “Me too.” It would be so _easy_ , just to tell her, but then she rolls her hips up against his, giggling when he groans.

“Prove it,” she says, and he’s pretty much a lost cause.

She gets a girlfriend the week after winter break, which they’d mostly spent curled up together in matching terrible sweaters, when they _weren’t_ fucking on the ancient worn-in couch in his basement.

They break up right before he comes home for Easter, and that’s how things go. He’s sure he can handle it—having Clarke Griffin as his full-time best friend, part-time fuck buddy—but then she slips on his shirt to criticize his junk food selection, or she starts in on his copy of _Beowulf_ because she actually likes it, and didn’t get to finish it last time, and he thinks this situation might actually kill him.

Clarke gets into every school she applies to, up and down the east coast, but the August after she graduates, she’s in the middle of Miller’s truck, between him and Bellamy, with her feet on the dashboard even though they keep telling her not to, making fun of their taste in music, barking arguments at the radio DJ because he makes a joke about single moms.

 _I love you_ , Bellamy thinks, and when she slips her hand into his, she grins over at him, like she’s saying _I know_.

But it’s not the same as saying it back, and that’s when he realizes he needs to move on.

Getting over the girl he’s in love with while he’s still periodically fucking her is not the best plan he’s ever had, but never let it be said that Bellamy is the best at planning. He signs up for OkCupid because it seems less awful than Tinder, and because it’s free.

He could always meet girls the usual way—in class, or at parties, or at those dorm get together’s that he never actually shows up at. But the truth is, unless he gets one of those little notifications saying someone wants to go on a date, he’d just spend all of his spare time in Clarke’s dorm, because she has a single and just generally more stuff than he does. She bought some sort of weird gaming console on eBay, that only works in Portuguese, and they’ve been trying to figure it out.

He’s gone on three dates before he tells Clarke—mostly because he thought she’d already figured it out, to be honest.

“What do you keep dressing up for?” she asks mildly from where she’s laying on his bed. She’s playing with his ancient Nintendog, because she’d never had one as a kid, and she sucks at it. He lost the little stick that came with it years ago, but she doesn’t seem to care; she’s just using her fingernails.

Bellamy eyes her a little as he buttons his shirt. “A date. Well, dates.”

Clarke sits up at that, clearly a little shocked, which seems fair. He’d gone down on her earlier that afternoon, and she hasn’t bothered pulling her jeans back on, so he can still see the colorful little flowers on her underwear.

“You have a girlfriend?” she asks, strangled, probably because now she’s thinking that he’s cheating on someone, _with her_ , and Bellamy winces.

“No, no, it’s—I’ve been, uh. Have you ever heard of OkCupid?”

Clarke’s looking at him like he’s an idiot, which he might deserve. “The hookup site?”

Bellamy frowns. “I thought Tinder was the hookup site.”

“I’m pretty sure they both are. You’re doing online dating?”

“Trying it out,” he shrugs, and then smiles a little self-deprecatingly, which tends to be his default. “Nothing’s really stuck.”

“Why?”

Bellamy fidgets, suddenly awkward. He hadn’t really thought about telling the girl he’s in love with why he fails so spectacularly at dating. He’s not sure he really can, not without making her feel guilty. It’s not _her_ fault that she isn’t in love with him. He doesn’t need to hear her say the words. He’d never be able to forget what they sound like.

“Um, I don’t know. I guess I’m just always looking for something different, than they are.”

“Well, what are you looking for?” Clarke crosses her legs, sitting straighter, assuming her therapist position. Which is a little funny, given that she’s mostly naked, with some serious sex hair clouded around her face.

“I don’t know, a relationship? A girlfriend. Someone to date.” It’s every bit as mortifying as he’d anticipated, and the moment is definitely being filed away as one of the most surreal of his life.

Clarke worries her lip a little, his favorite bad habit of hers. She’ll wear through the skin completely if he lets her, so he reaches forward to pull it out, and she sucks in a breath, a shock of cool air against his thumb.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asks, quiet, and he’s pretty sure she isn’t talking about OkCupid, anymore.

Bellamy closes his eyes, steadying himself. This is it. This is when she tells him, and he has to shrug it off like it isn’t a big deal even though it is, _it is_. This is when she breaks his heart without even meaning to—and the worst part is he’s so sure that not even this will make him get over her.

He’s starting to think he never will.

“I didn’t want you to, I don’t know. You didn’t want that, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Clarke makes a strangled choking noise in the back of her throat. “You didn’t want to _make me uncomfortable_ ,” she glares up at him. “Bellamy, we could have been dating for _months_.”

Bellamy blinks at her. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” she says, harsh, eyes flashing and angry. She hops up, so she can yell at him better, and pokes him in the sternum, _hard_. “I even made the first _move_! I thought, okay, this is it—now he’ll ask me out, or whatever. But you just— _god_ , you didn’t even seem _interested_. I mean, in sex, maybe, but everyone likes sex, and you loved me, I knew you loved me, but not like that, and—”

Bellamy grabs her hand where it’s playing with the material of his shirt, nervous, and she glances down at his floor.

“Clarke,” he says, unable to bite the grin back. And when she doesn’t look at him, he slides a hand against her cheek, holding it there. “Princess,” he tries, leaning in to put his mouth on her skin. He’s still smiling, teeth wet against her jaw. “I love you.”

“I know,” she says, petulant, and he huffs, turning her towards him.

“I’m _in_ love with you,” he says, rolling his eyes. “How many ways do you need me to say it?”

Clarke beams up at him, rolling up on the balls of her feet to press her grin to his. It’s not really kissing, since they’re smiling too much for that, and he needs to call Gina, to let her know he won’t make it to dinner—but he’s a little preoccupied by the feel of her in his arms.

She’s also still nearly naked, so there’s that.

“Any way you want,” Clarke sighs, and he kisses her.

“You’re an idiot,” she says later, muzzily, pressing her face against the sticky skin of his chest.

“You didn’t say anything either,” he points out.

“I said I’d have sex with you,” Clarke yawns hugely, and he presses a kiss to her hair. She smells like lavender, and sex, but mostly she smells like _Clarke_ , and he never wants her to leave his bed. She looks so good in it. “I thought you could figure it out.”

“We did,” Bellamy rolls over on his side, bringing her with him. “Eventually.”

“Yeah,” she hums. “But you’re still an idiot.”

“You love me,” he grins, smug, and he’s expecting her to tease him, to argue like she always does.

But instead she kisses the skin on his shoulder. “Yeah,” she sighs, happy. “I really do.”

He’s not sure it was worth it, all the time they wasted, but. They’ll make up for it.


End file.
